


The Crow:  Rejuvenation

by NamiiLevee



Category: The Crow - All Media Types, Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, Revenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 15:42:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8108101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamiiLevee/pseuds/NamiiLevee
Summary: A year has passed since a woman was murdered alongside her only family, and the Crow has decided to resurrect her for a chance at justice.  Enhanced by the mystical power of the Crow, she is more than capable of taking down her adversaries, but the real problem is finding where her killers are.  This new Crow realizes that she can't do it alone, and soon learns that she isn't the only creature to wander the City of Angels.**Transferred over from FF.net***CURRENTLY ON HIATUS*





	1. Who Am I?

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place 16 years after "The Crow: City of Angels." There will be references to other Crows throughout the story.

_People once believed that when a person dies, a crow carries their soul to the Land of the Dead.  But sometimes, something so bad happens that the soul is left with an unbearable sadness and can’t move on.  And sometimes, just sometimes, the crow is able to bring the soul back to set things right._

This infamous myth, this supposed fairytale…I know it to be true, every single word of it.  Believe what you want, but I am who I am and my beliefs are solely mine.  Nothing can change that; that’s one of the many lessons he taught me, albeit a bit ridiculous since I already knew.  We were torn apart in the worst way possible – Death – but not for long.  My journey is almost complete, and when it is, we will finally be together again.  I promised to protect him always like an angel, and that is what I am.  I am a dark angel brought back from the dead to seek my vengeance on the ones who ripped me from my body, who tore me away from the one I loved most, whom I needed most and vice versa, when I was alive.  There are some who call me a monster, an abomination, a freak of nature, a killer.  I am all of these things.

In this city there are no angels, no more angels in America, for they have abandoned all because they know that we are far from saving.  But sometimes, if one looks hard enough and opens their mind, there are souls who can still be saved.  In a way, I am the caretaker for these sad miserable souls who wander around aimlessly.  I am not a superhero; I cannot and will not save them from everything.  I am far from selfless; I will do whatever it takes to find the people responsible for my own problems; I will find the ones responsible for the deaths of myself and my love.  While there are no angels left, there are some rather exquisite allies I have found, they can almost be called “angels” themselves – almost, but not quite.  They understand the nature of power and further understand the need for quelling any and all targets who would dare to exploit them.  They have their reasons and I have mine.  A common goal for an uncommon group – my little brother, the smartest little bastard I have ever known, would have found this instance to be so dashingly poetic.

My body is burning up in excitement, and the adrenaline is coursing through my veins as I near the building where my target is housed.  They are not going anywhere, not now that the building is surrounded by my “allies”.  If the enemy so much as sticks their head out the window then they are as good as dead.  I cannot afford to take a risk, not now when I am so close to ending this dark journey of mine once and for all.  I signal to the ally running alongside me and she signals in turn to the group ahead of us.  There is an immediate explosion as the doors to the old church blast open.  We have to be swift and quick—the rest of the group must die now—and the others waste no time in entering the church and taking out the mindless cattle.  They scream in agony as they are torn apart and consumed, but that does nothing for me.  They made their choices and I am not entitled to choose whether they live or die.  Personally I would opt to kill all of them on sight, that would result in my status as a killer being intensified and my humanity extinguished.  Normally it would not matter to me because my past was filled with death and suffering, all caused by my own hand, but this is different.  This is my second chance to not only take my revenge, but to also redeem myself for the terrible things that I have done.  I only kill those I need to, especially in matters such as self defense.  Much like now.

One of the underlings approaches me wielding an automatic rifle and pulls the trigger, hoping to empty every bullet in the clip into my lifeless corpse.  Well, he gets half of it right.  The bullets pierce and enter my body, my blood is spraying across the walls and even all over his body as I inch closer…but I am not dead.  Deathless, I am.  He screams as I grab him by the throat and throw him against the ancient stone walls with literal bone shattering force, and I can hear the sickening wet snaps as several of his bones are broken.  I toss him again and watch with satisfaction as his face contorts in agony at having his spine snap in three different places and his legs just flop around like wet noodles – no more walking, no more running, they’re useless now.  There is no running away from me.  When I drop him he makes a pitiful, if not ridiculous, attempt to crawl away to safety, to which I kick him so that he is now laying on his back and press my boot to his throat.

“W-what…are…you?” He manages to choke out before I apply more pressure and twist my foot.  His bloody gurgles are the last sounds to come out of his mouth, the last dredges of his life.  He had been young, would have had a long life ahead of him if he had not stood on the wrong side of the line, but he made his choice.  There isn’t anything I can do about that.

He had asked what I am, although he’s not the first to ask me that.  Everyone I meet is oh-so-curious to learn even a bit about this stranger, yours truly, who can kill people in the blink of an eye.  Who am I? Well, that is a very simple question that deserves a very simple answer.

I am Rave Halley.

And I am a Crow.


	2. Something Wicked This Way Comes

**_-Several Nights Ago…-_ **

The night was like any other; cool and bleak and lacking any sort of happiness or hope.  Hope for what? For something other than the usual despair that surrounded the City of Angels.  The ‘City of Angels’… An ironic title for a despondent city.  Where were the angels when they were needed most? Where were they when civilians cried out for them as they were mugged, tortured, and ultimately killed? Where were they when the people needed their protection? They were gone.

Ashe Corven was all that remained of the angels, and even now he was just a shadow of his former self.  Stripped of what made him strong and reduced to what he really was:  a lost, wandering soul unable to cross over.  For sixteen long years he had wandered, aching to be reunited with his son yet unable to do so for his past discretions—he had strayed from the Path and was stripped of his rightful reward.  Was it so wrong to want to save someone who had brought guidance and understanding into his life even after he had died? Was it wrong to love the living even though he was no longer among them? No matter the answer; he had forsaken his chance at reunion and was paying the price.

He was sitting at the pier where it had all happened—where he and his son had been gunned down and dumped into the river like garbage.  Even now Ashe remembered the faces of the men and women he had killed, the members of Judah Earl’s gang; Spider-Monkey, Nemo, Kali, Curve, even Judah himself.  Each had paid for their crimes with their life—Ashe remembered the thrill of hunting down and killing each and every one of them—and still it was not enough.  He was still here and it was not fair.  He wanted to be with Danny, not here on this hellish plane of existence.

_‘I’m sorry, Danny.  I’m sorry for not being with you.  Please wait for me, please...’_ Ashe prayed, hoping that if there was a God he would listen to his pleading.  He was brought from his reverie by a very familiar sound and looked up in time to see a crow pass by overhead.

“Crow…” Ashe whispered with wide eyes as he watched the black bird soar.  He knew what that meant, but could not believe it.  “Another?”

Was that right? Was there to be another one after so long? He knew that he was not the first of his kind, but never did he expect there to be another one while he was still around.  Another spirit was to be revived and granted the power and guardianship of the Crow.  There was vengeance to be had.  Ashe murmured to no one in particular, watching the crow overhead.

“Who were you? Who will you become?”

* * *

 

**_-Meanwhile…-_ **

It was just another night, and The Confession was packed almost to the brim.  Venus didn’t know what it was that brought so many people out of their homes and into her club, but she sure as hell wasn’t complaining.  Business was good and she wasn’t going to waste time questioning people’s motives.  Well, there was one person she was going to question and that was the woman lingering at the bar without a drink in her hand; that and her bloody sunglasses.

“Something on your mind there, love?” The owner of the Confession asked one of her patrons with a raised eyebrow.  She knew this person, well, as much as a bartender knew her clients; in this case, partners.  The pale figure chuckled and turned her gaze to the bartender.

“What gave it away?”

“Your mug, that’s what.” The bartender said as if it was obvious.

“Sorry, not following you.”

“You’ve been staring out the bloody window for the past hour.  You’ve also ignored at least a handful of invitations to dance from passersby, which is damn shame because some of the men were rather cute.  Damn near made me think that you went on sabbatical.”

“I smell irony in that statement, Venus.” _More than you know._ “My mind’s all here, by the way.”

“I was _trying_ to make it obvious, you bloody wanker.” Venus huffed as she poured a shot for another patron.  “I’m still waiting on your latest tall tale.  You used to be a regular around here, came around every other night if I remember correctly; then all of a sudden you just up and disappear.  I’m willing to bet you were behind that explosion in that tower.  That’s why you high-tailed it out of town, isn’t it?”

“Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t.  There’s no way of knowing for sure.” The woman said cryptically.

“Oh, don’t give me that cock-and-bull.  I know what you can do, and that’s why I sent you to deal with Boris.  Hell, that’s why I made you partner in the first place, isn’t it?”

“Sure is, partner.” Without her, Venus would have still been dealing with Boris the Russian and his dirtbag cronies.

“Then can I get a little trust here? You don’t have to tell me what you were doing, but can you at least tell me where you’ve been for the last eight years?”

“Sabbatical.” The pale figure echoed.

“Well, you can keep spewing your sarcasm and cryptic bullshit all night if you want to.  I’ve got a club to run,” Venus huffed and reached for a bottle on the high shelf.

“Venus.” The voice of the pale stranger stopped the bartender in her tracks.

“What is it? Got something to confess?” The young woman shook her head in exasperation at her club partner’s hopefulness to hear dirty little secrets.  The ‘beat priestess’ routine didn’t work on everyone.

“Do you ever look up at the moon?”

“What makes you think I have time for that? The club’s been bustling ever since you left and it’s not stopping anytime soon.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.  The patrons are asking for the beat priestess and they shan’t be denied.” Venus trudged off to tend to her flock, and the pale young woman watched her go with mild interest.  That was Venus the Beat Priestess—always willing to listen to troubles, but never actually _listening_.  She waited until the bartender was out of earshot to mumble to herself.

“There’s so much more to the moon than being a pretty object for people to stare at.  The moon can tell a story about how a night is about to play out.  The Gangrel know it, I know it; all Kindred know it and we’ve learned to use it to our advantage.” The figure removed her sunglasses and once more looked out the window, eyeing the bright, waxing moon with her equally bright eyes.

“This moon is different—it says that something grand is going to happen soon.  Something wicked this way comes, Venus, and I should be there to greet it when it comes to Los Angeles.”

She replaced her glasses and stood, placing a rather hefty tip on the bar despite not ordering anything, and then turned to leave.  She exited the noisy club and took a deep breath of cool air.  Yes, something was different about the air as well.  Whatever was going to happen would happen soon.  She needed to prepare. The young woman eyed the moon one last time before taking off down the street.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a huge fan of The Crow comics and movies -- yes, even the not-so-great sequels. They just have this mystical power that make me automatically drawn to them. Or maybe it's that they're full of angst, misery, and vengeance. That could be it too.
> 
> I'll try to update as quickly as I can, though if I fail to update within the month then feel free to envision my death by grad school textbooks and homework.


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